


Cut to the Feeling

by persephoneregina



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Adorable, Choi San is Whipped, Comfort, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Heartwarming, Injury Recovery, M/M, Romance, Sad and Happy, Short & Sweet, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, puppy shiber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneregina/pseuds/persephoneregina
Summary: The park is enveloped in a perfect, peaceful silence.San walks slowly and carefully, shivering under the clearly insufficient weight of his tracksuit, while trying to maintain the grip around the leash.His knee still hurts and Shiber, his dog, a Shiba Inu, doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of “Stop pulling”, as he goofily limps to keep up with his enthusiastic pace.[...]“So, uhm..San, isn’t it? And what’s his name?” He asks pointing at Shiber.“Oh, he’s Shiber. It’s a present from my sister. She said a puppy would’ve helped me, you know, with the post operatory.” For the first time, San gives him an answer that isn’t a monosyllable.“Shiber?” Wooyoung asks with a puzzled expression “For a Shiba Inu?”“Why, what’s wrong?” San doesn’t understand what’s there to remark about his dog’s name.“Groundbreaking. Seriously groundbreaking.”
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 19
Kudos: 217





	Cut to the Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my darlings!
> 
> This little oneshot is a present for the Atiny Secret Santa Fanfiction Edition for @heyy_itsnatasha, who requested a WooSan AU with park setting and fluff with puppies theme.  
> I hope I have done a good job with it!  
> This is my first WooSan centric AU ever, and I have been quite ill while I was writing it, so please be kind if it doesn't live up to your expectations, I really tried to do my best nonetheless.  
> Please let me know in the comments if you have enjoyed it or leave a kudo, that would really warm my heart, and if you want to read more from me consider following me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/persefoneregina)! <3
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!

# Cut to the Feeling

# 

The park is enveloped in a perfect, peaceful silence. 

San walks slowly and carefully, shivering under the clearly insufficient weight of his tracksuit, while trying to maintain the grip around the leash.

His knee still hurts and Shiber, his dog, a Shiba Inu, doesn’t seem to understand the meaning of “Stop pulling”, as he goofily limps to keep up with his enthusiastic pace.

_ It’s been three months and I still struggle...At this rate I’ll probably better accept that I won’t ever be able to gain back the full function of this damned joint _ …

While thoughts of this sort and much worse ones thicken in the boy’s head, he notices how Shiber, in the meantime, has sat down on the dewy grass and keeps looking at him with an interrogative expression.

“Ok, ok, we’re going. Don’t rush me.” San says out loud to the puppy.

It’s a present from his sister. 

She thought that, after the operation, it would have done him good to have someone to pull him out of bed. To force him to go out and prevent him from becoming too self indulgent or cutting himself too much slack. To help him get back in track.

San begins to jog at a slow pace, Shiber preceding him with a gleeful expression on his snout. 

Everytime he feels a twinge at his knee, San does his best to ignore it.

_ Just one meter more _ .

He repeats it to himself until he’s run at least a quarter of his usual track.

He used to wake up at dawn and have a 10 kilometers run every morning.

Running was his therapy. His relief valve. His outlet.

Whenever he felt troubled, San would have just put on his sneakers and gone for a run, to the point where it had become a necessity, before being a habit.

But ever since the knee surgery he has become lazier and the physical impairment has started to get to his mental health. 

He gets sad every time he thinks about the possibility of quitting his career as a dancer because of his injury. 

He needs to recover. 

He has to recover. 

Most of all, because San doesn’t have a plan B.

Retiring and becoming a dance teacher is not an option he wishes to consider. 

It’s still too soon.

He hasn’t done half of the things he wishes to do.

He hasn’t accomplished what he wished to accomplish.

While the frozen air stings his skin and itches his nostrils, deep caught into his thoughts, San completely loses track of how much and for how long he has been training and without even knowing how, he notices how he’s not jogging at his usual pace. 

He is is almost running.

A warm tear wets his eyes. He doesn’t even manage to fully smile when a sudden stab at the knee obliviates his mind and makes him stumble.

San instinctively brings his hands towards his face to prevent the impact with the ground, but instead than on the rough ground, he lands on something warm and solid. Someone’s chest.

He feels a strong pair of arms serrating themselves around him and hears Shiber bark with his extremely high pitched tone.

“There, there, buddy, are you ok?” A soft male voice asks him.

San discloses his arms, slowly, and raises his head only to notice how the one holding him is one of the most handsome men he’s ever seen. Golden, sweaty locks of hair are dangling on his beading forehead and San can’t help but slightly blush at the way he’s smiling at him, not only with the curve of his lips, but also with his luminous, glistening hazel eyes. Everything about that young man reminds him of a ray of sunshine, and San’s first instinct is to curl up on himself and shy away, intimidated.

“Are you hurt?” The unknown asks again, trying to look at San’s face without ever letting go of his grip around his shoulders.

“I, uhm, no, I’m fine, totally fine, it’s just that…” San scratches the back of his head with one hand and looks down at his impaired knee, feeling his cheeks on fire for the embarrassment.

“Your knee?” The other one questions as he kneels down. “Can I touch you?”

San nods and looks away, ashamed as ever.

The stranger places his hands around the articulation and begins to feel it with a focused expression on his face, brows furrowed.

He pushes around his rotula with two fingers, in different spots of the joint, and San flinches and hisses in pain.

“Come on, leave me the leash. You need to sit down. Here, put your arms around my shoulders. -San complies, letting him hold the leather leash and leaning against the stranger’s strong, fit frame, as he allows him to help him walk up to a bench.- There you go.” He says, as he helps San sit down on the stone seat.

“Sorry for the pitiful spectacle, and thank you for your help…” San hesitates to finish his sentence. He doesn’t even know the kind stranger’s name.

“Wooyoung.” The other one rushes to his aid, sticking his hand out until San shakes it with a hint of a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Wooyoung. My name is San.” 

The two boys sit in silence for a few seconds of awkwardness, short of arguments to talk about.

“How long has it been?” Asks Wooyoung after a couple minutes, which he has spent staring at San’s leg.

“Since when?” Asks back San, mooning at the bluntness of that question.

“Since your surgery. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be nosy, but I’m a physiotherapist. I know a ruptured ACL when I see one.” 

For as much as Wooyoung is clearly trying his best to make San comfortable, he very much doesn’t feel so. He feels cornered. He doesn’t talk about the accident, never, not even with his family. What does this dude want from him now? Is this what people do now to build a conversation, straight up confront you on your trauma? 

There’s not even a dash of pity in his his words. Actually, it sounds like genuine curiosity. But San’s wound goes deeper than his flesh and he can’t help but feeling unsettled by those words. It’s the first time he encounters someone who’s able to see right through him that way, and he still doesn’t know if he’s comfortable with such a clear disparity among the informations he has given away about himself and the ones he has about Wooyoung.

San curls up on himself a bit, distancing himself from the other boy, shoulders shrugged and furrowed brows.

“Ah, sorry, I’ve been nosy. It’s none of my business anyway.” But Wooyoung doesn’t seem to take it too personally and just smiles at him, gently, radiating the same light of a sunbeam tearing the thick coat of winter clouds. “Can I at least grab you a coffee to help you pull yourself back together? There’s a kiosk nearby. I won’t be long.”

San doesn’t know why, but he shyly smiles back and nods, accepting the stranger’s offer.

Maybe it’s because he feels guilty for feeling almost threatened at such a simple and innocuous question. Maybe it’s because he is the first person he has ever met, after the surgery, to treat him like what he’s going through is normal. Maybe it’s because he really does need a coffee to get his shit together. 

After a few minutes, which San has spent petting Shiber’s head and letting it lick his hand with its soft, warm tongue, Wooyoung comes back with two tall coffees in his hands, still steaming. He places them on the bench before sitting down and offering San one of his bright smiles.

“So, uhm..San, isn’t it? And what’s his name?” He asks pointing at Shiber.

“Oh, he’s Shiber. It’s a present from my sister. She said a puppy would’ve helped me, you know, with the post operatory.” For the first time, San gives him an answer that isn’t a monosyllable.

“Shiber?” Wooyoung asks with a puzzled expression “For a Shiba Inu?”

“Why, what’s wrong?” San doesn’t understand what’s there to remark about his dog’s name.

“Groundbreaking. Seriously groundbreaking.” Wooyoung answers before taking a clearly excessive sip of his coffee and assuming the face of instant regret, as he stares into nothingness with puffy cheeks and serrated lips.

“I know, right? That’s exactly what I thought. Like, i could have actually named him anything. Cinnamon, Honeybun, Cookie, Marshmallow… But Shiber just had a ring to it that made it feel right.” San goes on and on talking about his dog’s name with ill-concealed pride, taking advantage of Wooyoung’s silence owed to the likely lingering pain left in his mouth by the searing hot coffee.

“San?” He eventually asks.

“Yes?” 

“Nothing personal, but that name is terrible.” Wooyoung laughs and San feels taken aback and teased at first, but that laughter is so absurdly high pitched and genuine and contagious that he surrenders to it and chimes in.

They laugh and laugh and laugh, until they’re out of breath and the both of them need to brush a few tears away from their eyes. 

San is suddenly reminded that he hasn’t laughed that much in months, and is somehow, unreasonably, very thankful to Wooyoung for that.

“Do you really think so?” He asks, still giggly and smiling, dimples on full display.

“Nah… -Wooyoung is just no good at lying, notices San, endeared- ...Actually, you know what? It’s so bad that it’s good!”

San bursts out in laughter once more, cracked by the absurd attempt made by Wooyoung to voice his opinion in a less blunt way than how he’s already done.

“No, no, for real, listen! Ah, San-ah, listen! -The beautiful boy holds San’s arm, just as if they had been friends for years, to make him stop laughing- It’s a very cute name. Absurd, tautological, but hella cute.”

San likes the way Wooyoung’s hand feels on his forearm. His grip is strong yet gentle, and so, so incredibly warm. He gets all fuzzy and, without even noticing, his cheeks turn a glowing pink as the boy’s touch keeps lingering onto him.

“It’s ok, really, I’m not offended! Plus, you’re kinda right. I don’t really think it likes it either.” San says, scratching Shiber’s head, as the dog rubs it against his owner’s leg.

Their playful conversation goes on for an hour or so, the both of them seem to have forgotten the reason why they have gone to the park in the first place as they lazily sit, occasionally looking into each other’s eyes, and chitchat.

“Hey, sorry but I should really get going now, I have to be at work in one hour. Can I take you somewhere? I have my car right around the corner, you surely can’t walk like this.” Says Wooyoung after checking his phone.

San gets kind of sad to part, for no apparent reason. 

“Don’t worry, my place is just two blocks away from the park. I surely can manage to get there on foot.” He says, carefully standing up.

“No way. I’ll take you there. Come on.” Insists Wooyoung, grabbing the handle of Shiber’s leash and picking San up in his arms before he can even realise what’s happening. “But you’ll have to teach me the way.”

“Put me down I can walk!” Screams San, both amused and embarrassed, kicking the air.

“You know you’d make it a whole lot easier to me if you stopped kicking like a mule and just allowed me to take you home? I’m not going to put you down anyway, sho how about you hold your peace for a bit?” Wooyoung stops on the sidewalk as he speaks and takes his time to look into San’s eyes as persuasively as he can. “So, are you going to stay still and let me take you home?”

Eventually, he nods and relaxes his body in Wooyoung’s arms, which he finds being surprisingly strong and firm.

San hasn’t been held like that ever since he was a child, and yet the sense of safety is exactly the same as it was back then. 

He’s not tensed or nervous, quite the opposite really.

Wooyoung is warm. 

He’s so close he can hear his heart beating and his breath getting slightly heavier as they get closer to his block of flats. 

San feels sorry for being such a bother and lowkey wishes he had met such a nice, handsome guy in way different circumstances.

_ He must think I’m such a charity case _ …

Bu Wooyoung looks like the kind of person who’s way too kind to think anything like that, as he smiles and tells him jokes during the whole walk up to his place, to make him feel at ease as he carries him, without even flinching, up to the stood.

“Hand me the keys.” He asks.

“What?” 

“Hand me the keys! So that I can lay you on your bed at least. Come on, had I been ill-intentioned I wouldn’t have bothered to carry you up here. Actually I could have just stolen your dog and ran away to give it a decent name. No way you could’ve actually followed me in your conditions.” Wooyoung teases him until he giggles, carefully keeping his eyes away from him. He hasn’t been this close to a man for a while, let alone a man looking that good, being that funny and comforting him with that much care: even a glance could be fatal to San’s rationality. 

He ends up fidgeting for a second with his tracksuit pocket’s zipper before pulling out the keys and handing them to Wooyoung, who opens up the door without any struggle.

“Second door to the right.” Murmurs San.

Wooyoung follows his instructions and effortlessly brings him to his bedroom.

San blushes, remembering how he has left the bed unmade that morning, and for just a second he wishes he would have listened to his mom all of the countless times she would have told him “You need to make up your bed before you leave the house, you never know what could happen”. But San never thought that anything could actually happen to someone like him, let alone anything requiring his bedroom to be in order.

While all of these thoughts are crowding San’s mind, Wooyoung bends close to the bed’s edge and carefully lays him down on the mattress, tucking San in under the warmth of the soft duvet. 

To San’s surprise, though, Wooyoung doesn’t just leave him there: he sneaks his hands under the blanket and begins to massage his knee, taking his time to really knead the flesh and stretch the muscles under his hands. It hurts like hell, but San sucks it up and bites the insides of his cheeks to keep silent. None of them says anything, Wooyoung is way too focused on doing his job, while San is terrified at the very thought that, if he opens up his mouth, he could emit any weird sound and disturb him, which is actually the last thing he wishes to do, because in spite of all the pain he’s enduring, there is a part of him that wishes for him to never stop.

“How does it feel?” Asks Wooyoung, delivering another of his shining smiles straight to San’s heart.

“Heavenly…” Answers San in the most dreamy tone possible, clearly referring to anything but his knee.

“Thank you very much, you’re the first patient to ever tell me such a thing!” Says the boy with a loud, amused laughter.

San notices how his hand is still resting on his leg, mindlessly caressing his skin with the most delicate touch he has ever experienced on himself.

He really doesn’t want him to go, and yet he knows that Wooyoung has remained with him for way longer than he was supposed to and has done a lot more for him than he was held to. He looks away, ashamed at his selfishness, and with a certain amount of sadness accepts the thought of the approaching goodbye.

“I really need to get going now.” Wooyoung says, slightly upset. Or maybe San believes him to be just because so is he, very much so.

“I know. Thank you so much, Wooyoung, you have been a darling. I will never be able to thank you enough…” He gets interrupted by the feeling of Wooyoung’s hand wrapping around his own. The sensation is so overwhelming that it’s enough for San to blush like crazy and remain speechless, mouth agape.

“My pleasure, really. But if you really want to pay me back, then coffee’s on you next time. What do you say?” The suggestion hits San like a truck, so hard that he needs a few seconds to recollect his composure and to vocalize an actual answer.

“Y-yeah, sounds good, sounds amazing, I… Uhm… When…” Evidently, San is still shook as he attempts to form a coherent phrase, but he must have done or said something good, because Wooyoung is still there, right by his side, with a sweet, endeared smile lightning up his face. He bends and leaves a gentle peck on San’s forehead, before parting from his hand and walking towards the bedroom’s door.

“I train at the park every day from 5.30 a.m. I trust you’ll know where to find me, and if you don’t, then I’ll rely on Shiber. Looks like a dependable one.”

“Noted.” San nods and it’s his turn to completely disarm Wooyoung with the most adorable smile he can pull off, to which the other boy reacts with an embarrassed nose scrunch and a wave of his hands before leaving.

San is left alone, laying in his bed and mindlessly staring at the wall in front of him, incapable to brush off the smile sitting on his lips. He remains perfectly still until Shiber shyly peeks in and walks up to the bed, frantically brushing with his tiny paws on the duvet, until San pulls it up and places it on his lap, where Shiber curls up and rests his head against its owner’s leg with a pleased yelp. Of all the things he could have imagined happening, meeting someone like Wooyoung was for sure the last one he could have had in mind. He hasn’t felt like this way about someone for the longest time, but he can recognise the butterflies in his stomach and the irrepressible need to see him again, in spite of his stupid knee, to which, to be honest, San thinks he kind of owes a thank you. He wiggles in his bed for a few seconds as his mind goes back to the feeling of Wooyoung’s hand holding his one and the, after a few minutes, he eventually falls asleep with a still fluttering heart.

* * *

  
  


A week later, when San’s knee finally decides to cooperate and the doctors certify that the inflammation has dimmed down, San can’t wait to go to the park.

He wakes up extra early, eager and nervous at the very thought of seeing Wooyoung again.

His stomach seems restless as well, as it nonstop tosses and turns.

San knows he shouldn’t be that nervous: it’s not like it’s a date or anything, he doesn’t even really know if Wooyoung is actually going to be there, he doesn’t know what training track he follows, he doesn’t have his phone number either, so it might be very likely that he won’t be even able to find him.

He is desperately trying not to raise his hopes too high, but in spite of his struggles, his heart doesn’t seem to want to comply as it races in his chest, faster and faster with every step he takes. 

When he’s almost arrived, he feels Shiber suddenly pulling at the leash and sees him hopping around and barking with the one that almost looks like a smile on his snout. 

“San-ah! At long last, uh?” 

San raises his head and instantly smiles as he sees Wooyoung warming up against one of the stone benches in the park.

He rushes towards him and really has to fight with the instinct of just throwing himself in Wooyoung’s arms, but when they’re close enough it’s actually him wo pounces at San and grabs him as tight as he can.

It takes him a couple of seconds for San to realise what’s going on.

But then, he surrenders to the warm embrace and lays his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder and deeply inhales his perfume. He smells like sandal and leather and wood. It’s an addictive, manly fragrance, he thinks in his mind.

_ I could smell this for hours without even complaining _ .

“Shall we begin?” Asks Wooyoung, as he grabs Shiber’s leash.

San nods his head and Wooyoung proceeds to help him warming up, guiding him with some very gentle exercises for his joints, before actually beginning to jog with him at a very relaxed pace. They don’t talk much. They’re both very focused on their training, but as much as all their communication takes a more serious note, there’s still a lingering sense of happiness among them. It’s about the way they casually look at each other, or how their hands brush one against the other, or how the both of them can’t stop smiling, that makes the whole training track pleasant and surprisingly easy to carry out.

After a couple of hours, they stop to sit down. San slightly shivers at a cold gust of wind, and Wooyoung instantly takes off his sweater to delicately lay it down on San’s shoulders. 

“Here, you shouldn’t get cold.” He says in a gentle tone as he arranges it to better sit on San.

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t either!” Answers San as he tries to take if off and give it back to its legitimate owner, who stops it and insists for him to keep it.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. Plus, we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

“Uh? Where to?” San asks, dumbfounded.

“You still owe me a coffee!” Replies Wooyoung with a knowing expression “Or did you change your mind about it?”

“No, no, not at all! I didn’t… I would never…” San finds himself babbling and blushing awkwardly. The art of subtlety most definitely isn’t his thing.

They head to a small coffee near the park, Shiber following along, occasionally barking at some other dogs on the sidewalk or gleefully hopping around. When they walk in, they are overwhelmed by a sweet smell of cinnamon, coffee and chocolate. They ask the waiter for a table and sit down in a quite intimate spot and San asks for two hot chocolates and two cinnamon buns.

“Sweet tooth, uh?” Asks Wooyoung in a teasing tone.

“Ah, what can I say, I tend to like sweet things…” San brushes his hand through his hair, trying to hide away the awkward smile on his face, but giving Wooyoung the most affectionate glare possible.

“It’s ok. I tend to like sweet things too.” Wooyoung smiles in return and winks, making San’s heart skip a beat and leaving him breathless at the bluntness of his flirt.

When their food and drinks arrive, they’re way too caught up in their conversation to even pay any attention to that.

* * *

Soon enough, this becomes their habit. They meet every morning at dawn in the park, train together for two hours or so, then go to the café, sit down at the one that has become their usual table and have breakfast. Wooyoung is very careful and caring as he makes San exercise different muscles every day, trying not to overwork his knee, but at the same time strengthening the articulation in order to restore its functionality. 

As for himself, San follows his directions without even blinking an eye, completely entrusting him and with constant gratefulness. 

They never talk about the incident. 

Wooyoung doesn’t want to pressure San, and for as much as San would like to tell him, he never feels like it’s the right time to do so.

Most of the times their conversations are so pleasant and gleeful that San feels like, if he did face the subject, he’d spoil the mood, and that’s the last thing he wishes for, mostly because he doesn’t want Wooyoung to look at him like anyone else does: a broken thing, a cracked porcelain, something people have to go easy on, too scared it’ll break at the slightest touch.

San doesn’t want his pity.

He doesn’t want his grief.

He doesn’t even want him to fake any form of affection, he doesn’t want to feel like a sinker.

If there’s going to be something between them, San really hopes it’s not going to be based on any form of mercy or pity.

He wants Wooyoung to see him for himself, so he likes to tell him about his passions, the books he’s reading, the music he likes, the places he’s been, and everything else that brings him joy, and notices how Wooyoung does the same with him.

This way he learns that Wooyoung loves shopping, mostly clothes, accessories and perfumes, the former because of his exceptionally good sense of smell. He learns how he loves to go out for a kbbq with his friends, how his dearest friend’s name is Yeosang and how much they have been through together since their teenage years, how many struggles there have been in his life and how much having such a devoted, trusted friend has meant for him. 

He learns, eventually, how he likes to sing and dance, and when Wooyoung, one morning, asks him if he’d like to try out a few exercises that include a few dance moves, to make things a little less boring, San feels a sting to his heart.

“I was a dancer, you know? -San decides to say, eventually, feeling like he really needs to face the elephant in the room and break down to Wooyoung what he’s been through- And a good one, dare I say. Before the incident. The day it happened it felt like the whole world collapsed on my shoulders, and so did any other day after that. Every second spent at the hospital felt like torture. Everything kept reminding me that I was done, that I had to deal with the fact that I could never have danced again. And every day, since I got back home, has felt like a nightmare. The first thing I’ve done has been hiding away all the stuff that reminded me of my career: trophies, clothes, ballet shoes, even the bag I used to bring to my lessons. All of those things would make me weep uncontrollably. But then one day my sister nearly knocked down the door to my apartment and walked in with this cute little boy -He says, rubbing Shiber’s head under the table, who licks San’s hand in return- and I finally saw a glimmer of hope. He hit me with all of his vitality, his liveliness, his cheerfulness. He pushed me out of bed and out of the prison where I had allowed my fears to force myself into. At first, it were just a couple walks around the block. Then, he made me want to try to do something more, so we hit the park. And when I went there with him for the first time, I remember how my first instinct was to run. Muscular memory, force of habit, call it whatever you like, but I begun to caress the idea to take back my life, step by step, thanks to this small boy over here. The morning we met, when I felt my knee hurt like that, it felt like a stab straight to the heart, because if there’s something I want to do is dance again. Feeling that pain and being reminded that, despite all the progress I can do, I will forever be limited just tore me, but it was all somehow manageable because of how you appeared and helped me out. You made me feel like it was no big deal. Like it was just an obstacle. You didn’t look at me like a cripple or something. You didn’t look at my injury like a handicap. You saw me, and you saw a person, not an illness or something. You didn’t pity me, not even for a second, and for this and all the previous things, I am grateful to you, Wooyoung. I really, immensely am. I feel like I didn’t manage to properly thank you last time, so I won’t make the same mistake now. You’ve been extremely kind to me, it has been such a great pleasure meeting someone like you.”

San doesn’t dare to look at Wooyoung as he slowly, softly, lets it all out.

He just stirs his hot chocolate, trying to make it cool down and taking some small sips every now and then.

When he finally raises his gaze, he notices a different expression on Wooyoung’s face.

His usual smile is always there, but this time it looks dimmed down, faded by a slight aura of sadness and melancholy. 

He reaches out to hold San’s hand. San feels it all over again, but this time it’s more powerful than the first time: his stomach clenches and his mouth runs dry at the touch of Wooyoung’s fingers, while his cheeks are on fire and his heart is racing at the fastest pace he’s ever felt it beat. Nonetheless, there’s something more than that. Wooyoung doesn’t look sorry for him. He looks moved. That is something that usually happens when San tells his story to somebody, but the fact with Wooyoung is that he’s not sad because he’s pitying him and he’s not holding his hand because he feels like he has to. It’s rather because he wants him to feel how close he is to him.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything. All I’ve done, I’ve done it because I want to do it. I’ve done it because there is something special about you, San. When I see you struggling, there’s not a glimpse of defeat in your eyes. There’s a fire, a drive, a determination, a dedication I have never seen in anyone else. It doesn’t matter how much I challenge you, you’re up for anything, and for as much as I had a vague idea of what you could have been through, I am the one who is actually grateful to you for opening up to me in such a sincere way and sharing your feelings. All your struggles and sufferings only make me admire you more, San. and if there’s one thing I can promise to you is that I am going to work with you for as long as it takes to make you dance again.”

Wooyoung caresses San’s cheek, brushing away a timid tear with his thumb.

“Now, now, don’t cry…” He whispers “Don’t cry or tomorrow’s routine is going to be hella hard for you!”

“Wooyoung, I really love your enthusiasm and confidence, but… It may take months, if not years.” Mutters San, sniffling.

“Well, I don’t really mind spending time with you and this cute fluffball. I could even get used to it.” Says Wooyoung, handing a piece of his pastry to Shiber, who instantly eats it with enthusiasm.

“Ah, Wooyoung, don’t do this to me…” San is on the verge of sobbing, hiding his face in his hands.

“Why? What did I say?” Asks Wooyoung, cupping his hands around San’s face and pushing away his hands to look at him in the eyes.

“Don’t say these kind of things… That you like spending time with me…” He dries his eyes with the palm of his hands, before eventually looking at Wooyoung.

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s the truth, Sanie. I like to spend time with you, I genuinely do. I like the person you are. Everything you’ve shown me about you in the past weeks, I am extremely fond of. I like your personality, I like the way you think, I like the way you speak. I like how you smile, heck, what am I saying? I love the way you smile! I thought you had gotten the hints, by now, I really thought you had figured out how much I fancy everything about you. I never said anything because I didn’t want to overstep into your life, I didn’t want it to look like I was forcing my feelings onto you, but I honestly, genuinely, completely, at times even desperately, like you, San.” 

San smiles through the tears at the way Wooyoung speaks to him, so softly, with his hands around his face, caressing him, and at how he stutters on his words as his speech gets more and more emotional. 

It feels like a dream.

It feels too good to be true and his heart almost can’t take it.

He tries to shy away, to hide the vivid blush glowing on his cheeks, but there’s something so magnetic about Wooyoung’s glare that leaves him no escape and forces him to keep looking at him.

Wooyoung’s words gently graze his heart and leave him speechless and shaking with emotion, in utter disbelief and completely incredulous.

San would like to say something, but the words just don’t come to mind, all he can do is stare at him, mouth agape, gasping for air.

“Don’t you ever dare telling me not to say that I like being with you, because I will put all of my determination into proving you just how much I want to spend every second of every day, until the end of times, with you. Got it, you big, beautiful dummy?” Wooyoung says, with the brightest smile he can muster, pulling San closer to him.

“Got it.” Whispers San, smiling in return.

It’s a matter of seconds and entropy does its job, pulling their faces closer, until their lips touch, attracted one another like magnets. When San feels Wooyoung’s soft lips on his own his mind goes blank. Kissing him feels like fireworks bursting, like galaxies birthing inside his chest, like coming back home after the longest, hardest day ever, like drinking water after a draught, like dancing… 

Yes, kissing Wooyoung feels like  _ dancing _ : liberating, exalting, empowering, enchanting, addicting.

And, just like dancing, San is quite sure he wants to do it forevermore.


End file.
